Time Can Only Tell
by HeavenlyDarkness16
Summary: HIATUS! It was only a year ago when the people of Amity Park mourned the loss of Samantha Manson. On the anniversary of her death a ghost appears in Danny's life, warning him of the end. Who is she, and how does she know the truth behind Sam's


**Well this is the very first chapter of my very first fanfic on and I'm very proud of it. I thought this idea came out very easily and I love writing this story, but the only thing that matters is what you think. I just hope I don't get out of character, at least not without justifying it in the story. Hope you like it. **

**What Words Can Only Say**

**Prologue**

_I remember those days of adolescent innocence when I spent all of my time with only one person. He was all I needed, all I wanted to get me through my averagely bland school year. Danny Fenton. I think about him more than I should, even with the ominous future still on this path of inevitability. All I have left of him is a faded memory in the back of mind. He's always smiling in this memory; his black hair a mess on top of his head, and his blue eyes are shining with innocence you could never except from a halfa. I lost that innocence the day that I became a halfa, but maybe it was because in a sense, and in my mind, I had the lost the person that had mattered to me most. And I know in the back of my conscience, that that day, the day that I, Samantha Manson, fell to my 'peril' into the ghost zone, and the day Danny lost what remained of his normality._

The words were bold, and stood out on the paper in black looping letters. Sam reviewed over her words with care, taking them to heart. Slowly, tears trailed down her face dropping one by one onto the still drying ink. The ebony tears dripped down the page in what Sam considered to be pure poetic justice. She smiled despite the translucent tears still staining her delicate cheeks.

A knock at her door woke her from her thoughts, and without thinking she wiped her tears away and answered, "Its open."

He was old, when he walked, or floated, into the room. He looked upon the girl with a caring smile that stretched several deep wrinkles out of proportion. But before her very eyes, the old man changed, shifted through time only to come back in less than a millisecond as young child, staring at her with wide eyes.

"Samantha," He began, his voice a deep baritone, even as a child, "The time has come. This is the last of the time we have to prepare for your destiny. Are you ready?"

Sam nodded her head slowly, her eyes glued to her shoe. She knew that he knew she had been crying. She could practically feel the pity pouring out of his being. Without looking up she asked a question that had haunted her from the very beginning. "When?"

Clockwork's eyes saddened and focused on the girl that sat before him. "Soon, my child. Everything will unfold soon."

"I'm- I'm scared, terrified that I might not be able to do this," Sam whispered, shame and regret lacing her words.

Clockwork saw the small convulsion that ran through the girl's body, and he marveled at the silent tears she had learned to conceal so well, almost too well. "I know you doubt, Samantha. You doubt me, and you doubt your own capability. You, Miss Mason, know more than anyone that the future has never been set in stone, yet you don't doubt the need to fight. You don't doubt that you will in the end be your world's only hope, and that, my child, is why I believe in you. You will succeed. I have never doubted that."

Sam picked up her head, letting Clockwork see her frailty openly. She gave him a wet smile, and she divulged further into her fears. "I'm just a teenage girl."

Clockwork's form changed suddenly, as he donned the body of his middle-aged form. Clockwork sighed, almost discouragingly, as he moved farther into her room. "I never have apologized to you, have I?"

"For what?" Sam questioned, her eyes searching the fatherly wisdom in his.

"For taking away your entire life. For retaining you in the ghost zone, and changing you into something that you didn't want to be. For separating you from the ones you love, and for dropping this bomb shell of a future into your lap. I'm sorry for keeping you from your friends and family, and most of all Mr. Fenton. I wish I could have prevented this whole situation without involving you, but it was imminent. There was nothing I could do. Nothing I could change," Clockwork explained.

"I don't blame you now. Maybe at first I did, but never again. I know my destiny. I know my fate, and I accept it," Sam assured him, standing up from her bed, her confidence reappearing, echoing into the room in layers. The notebook lay open and forgotten on her pillow.

Sam clenched her fists tightly together, and set her jaw firmly. Her body stiffened, and a blinding white light emanated from her body, sweeping quickly over her frame before diminishing into nothingness. The Sam that reemerged from the light was different. Her hair was snowy white, and her eyes gleamed like the color of the clearest oceans. A bold, self-confident smile formed on her lips, as her entire constitution overflowed with a radiant power. "We should train before it gets too late."

Samantha disappeared through the low ceiling in her room. Clockwork lingered behind for only a moment, looking around the living quarters, before leisurely following his apprentice outside.

(Page Break)

Danny Fenton struggled tiredly to slowly raise a bar of steel above his head. Muscles rippled throughout his arms and chest, and he exhaled deeply as he straightened his burning appendages. "15," he mumbled through clenched teeth. Sweat lingered on his brow for a moment before trickling annoyingly into his eyes. He willed himself to raise the mass of metal and weight above him one more time as Tucker tried in vain to encourage his friend's pace.

Danny was deaf to the world, his only concern being the build of his body and the strength he so desperately sought. A minute later the number twenty rolled off his tongue, and he set the bar onto the bench, only slightly aware of Tucker's added help.

"Thanks for spotting, Tuck," Danny said through a thin towel, as he wiped his dripping face.

"Anytime," Tucker Foley returned, patting his best friend on his bare shoulder. "What now?"

"I'm going to run for a while. I need to get out of here for a bit," Danny answered, as he replaced his white tee shirt over his well toned chest.

"Afterwards you want to come over? I was thinking we can drown ourselves in sugar and junk food and have an all night horror movie marathon. You know in _her_ honor." Tucker suggested, awkwardly rubbing his neck in discomfort.

"I don't- I can't Tuck. Thanks for trying, but I really don't thank that will help," Danny said, lowering his gaze to the floor, hiding the tears gathering in his eyes.

"Then what will?" Tucker asked, desperation filtering through his voice.

"Nothing," Danny answered, his direct honesty chilling Tucker to the very core.

"Danny it wasn't-," he tried, but Danny cut him off with a wave of his arm.

"Not now, Tuck," Danny spat harshly, before making several long, deliberate steps to his door.

"See ya," Tuck mumbled as Danny exited, leaving him to stare after him helplessly.

The air of spring was warm and inviting, a soft breeze blowing the bangs of Danny's hair out of his eyes. He shivered involuntarily, as his veins filled with a bitter cold, silent tears dripping into his mouth. He began his ascent up the hill, walking stiffly along it's sidewalk. He stuffed him hands in his pocket and for just a few steps he let his mourning create his expression. Then he took off down the street at a steady run.

Half an hour later, after countless dips and turns, Danny Fenton found himself surrounded by what seemed to be thousands of graves scattered over a solidly green stretch of land. His pace had slowed to a hesitant walk as his feet traced a familiar path. The path took him to an elderly willow tree that perched towards the back of the cemetery. Shaded by the tree, lay a solitary headstone, laying flatly on the ground.

Danny released a shaky breath as he stepped up to the marble plaque almost regretfully. He couldn't stop his knees from buckling, or his head from drooping pathetically as a sob raked through his body. He buried his head in his hands, letting the warmth of his tears soak into his icy hands. "I miss you," Danny whispered into the open air; his words consoling himself rather than fulfilling their purpose of reaching out to what he knew wasn't there. "I miss you so damn much that I'm losing myself in all of my misery. I can't take this anymore, Sam. Living without you doesn't ever seem worth it. I feel like screaming, and yelling, and tearing apart this entire city, but even then I know it would do nothing to bring you back to me. It would do nothing to avenge your unjust death because in the very end I would still be the reason you're not here."

Danny felt the words rushing from his heart, and he imagined Sam's face in his mind; her Gothic beauty soothing the agony of his mind and breaking his heart at the same time. He saw her falling through the portal; a ghostly arm wrapped around her waist and a hand muffling her pleading screams. He saw her face disappear behind the ghost portal's door as it shut in his. He remembered trying to explain to Tucker, lying to his parents, and the look of horror on Mrs. Manson's face as he told her that Sam had been taken, kidnapped by a deranged criminal. He thought of the months of searching in vain for any sign that Sam Manson ever existed as more than memory, only to come up empty handed in the end. He remembered, most of all, the day they buried an empty coffin in this very spot, and the headstone they had placed over it in her memory.

Samantha Manson, a beloved daughter and the best of friends. Her undeserved death will echo through our hearts forever. 1989-2005

"I'm sorry, Sam. I should have been stronger," he whispered to himself.

He didn't know how long it had taken for his tears to stop and dry, and he didn't know what time it was when he to dragged himself from the ground and walked back to his house. But as he walked through his front door, the sun had begun to sink below the horizon, cascading Amity Park in thousands of different shades of gold and pink. He wordlessly walked through the living room, ignoring his father's booming hello and his sister's worried stare. He found himself in his room, not knowing or caring exactly how or when he had gotten there, and he watched the sun set from his windowsill.

**A/N: That's it for now. I hope you liked it, and I would so appreciate a couple of reviews. And I'll give you a- a cookie! Yea cookies!**


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